


and then something aligns

by shellfishDimes



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Casual Sex, Crushes, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Feelings, Friends With Benefits, Friendship/Love, Happy Sex, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 07:22:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15114533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellfishDimes/pseuds/shellfishDimes
Summary: It took Minho a while to put the shards of his heart back together after Taehyun had left. Sometimes, Seunghoon feels like if he holds on too tight, Minho's heart will shatter again, but if he holds on too gently, it'll slip through his fingers. It's a tightrope, but his balance has been good so far.





	and then something aligns

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to write something nice. happy pride month I love you all! title is from [sunlight in a jar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bAkx37MglaU) by the lucksmiths, which is a good mood song, if you want it. I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/fanxytelevision), if you wanna hang.

Mexico is sunshine, and warm rain, muddy water running down cracked pavements and his white trainers getting splattered with mud. It's horchata under an awning while waiting for the downpour to pass. He finds an outdoor food market and stops at every stall, buying something small from each one, hot or cold, teeth-numbingly sweet or so spicy his eyes water. 

Seungyoon sends him photos of Haute every day. It doesn't help with missing him — them — every day, but Mexico is bright colours, and air that tastes different from anywhere else. Cleaner than in Seoul. And nobody here recognises him, or at least they're polite enough not to show it. He thinks he catches a girl, out for dinner with her family at the same restaurant as him, gawking at him one evening, but when their eyes meet she looks away so quickly it's almost aggressive, and he forgets about her in the morning.

He takes dozens of photos. Selfies, and shots of the landscape, and snaps of the busy streets. He takes a twelve-second video of himself in the middle of a park, spinning in a circle with his mouth open, everything behind him a green and brown and grey blur, and sends it to Minho.

It's four in the morning in Seoul, a Wednesday. It's one in the afternoon in Mexico City, and it's still Tuesday. Seunghoon sits on a bench, the wood still damp from the morning's rain, when Minho sends him a message back. It's a photo of Jhonny asleep, curled up on a crumpled pair of trousers Seunghoon recognises as his. 

_She misses you,_ Minho writes, and Seunghoon snorts at his phone.

 _Go to sleep,_ he writes, but before he can send it, Minho writes, _Come back soon?_

Seunghoon holds backspace until he deletes what he'd written. He rolls his eyes and leans his head back, sinking down on the bench until his back is bent at an angle that won't go too long without being uncomfortable. He stretches, and something between his shoulder blades pops.

He sends Minho the _soon_ emoji. The sun peeks behind a cloud for a moment, but the sky has been leaden all day, holding its breath before rain.

 _Seung Soon,_ Minho writes, in Hangul and emoji. 

Seunghoon pockets his phone, and goes down to the street with the craft market, following his feet. There's a shop selling decorative plates, whorls of colour hanging from a grey wall. He doesn't think he's the kind of person who buys a decorative plate for the hell of it, so he just takes a photo. 

The flight back to Seoul takes nearly nineteen hours. Seunghoon falls asleep halfway through _The Martian._ He wakes up and switches to _Along With the Gods,_ managing to make it past the halfway point of the movie. He passes out, and he dreams in half-remembered scenes from the movie: bubbling lava pools, sharp canyons, and falling from a burning building.

He wakes up in San Francisco, walks through the airport in a dreamlike haze to his connecting flight, clutching his passport in his pocket. His eyeballs feel like they're covered in sand, and he can barely keep his eyes open. He wakes up in Incheon, and remembers to pull on his mask, his sunglasses and his hat before he leaves security and meets his driver outside. He's too tired to acknowledge the cameras.

He comes home, kisses Haute, hugs Seungyoon, kisses Thor, lets the shower wash off the recycled airplane air off him, collapses into bed and the oblivion of sleep.

He dreams of the sea breeze playing in his hair, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, and Minho's sweaty fingers tangling together with his, their foreheads pressing together, Minho's laugh, the cameras.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, his covers tangled around his legs. He's hard in his boxers and wide awake. The clock by his bedside says it's almost four in the morning. Seunghoon groans, rolling over on his side and blearily grabbing for his phone. He checks Katalk, scrolling through old messages between Jinwoo and Seungyoon about some new drama Jinwoo is watching.

He switches to Instagram, and sees a red new message icon. It's from Minho, from three hours ago. It's a seven-second video of him lying in bed, shirtless, making stupid faces and blowing kisses at the camera until Jhonny walks into the frame and he bursts out laughing and accidentally ends the video. Seunghoon plays it over and over again until his smile is permanently affixed to his face.

It's a little bit embarrassing, maybe, but Haute is fast asleep and the apartment is dead silent, so Seunghoon jerks off, the heel of his free hand against his mouth to muffle his heavy breathing, thinking of Minho's laugh in the video, his skin in the white light of his phone, and the dips of his collarbones. He might feel a burn of shame, but either way, it helps him relax — when he's done and cleaned up, it only takes him a very short time to fall back asleep, and he doesn't wake up again until it's time to get up in the morning and get ready for the next thing.

Minho buys a bunch of analog cameras for their trip to Japan, and he and Seungyoon spend more time looking through their viewfinders than doing anything else. They develop the film in a drugstore somewhere in a sidestreet in Nagoya, and when they get back to their hotel room, they spread the photos over one of the beds in Minho and Jinwoo's room, trying to pick the best one to post online. The photos are scattered everywhere like dry autumn leaves. Minho sits in the middle, cross-legged, picking one up, putting it down, picking another up. When they realise this is showing no signs of ending any time soon, Jinwoo takes Seunghoon for drinks at the hotel bar, the both of them too lazy to try and think of anywhere else to go. The hotel bar has Sapporo, and the price isn't as extortionate as they expected, so it's good enough. 

"I'd like to go see the cherry blossoms tomorrow," Seunghoon says.

"Oh yeah, Minho was talking about wanting to take photos of that," Jinwoo says.

"It'll look great," Seunghoon says. A drop from the condensation on his glass slides down to the table. He wipes it off with his thumb and sucks it dry.

"I'm jealous," Jinwoo laughs. "I'm terrible at cameras, I'd probably ruin the whole first roll of film if I had one." 

"Nah," Seunghoon says. On the table, his phone lights up. "Ask Seungyoon. He'd let you play around with his." It's a Katalk notification: from Minho. "Sometimes even photos that you think look like shit end up looking cool," Seunghoon says. 

Jinwoo's phone buzzes. He frowns in confusion as he opens the message. Seunghoon takes that opportunity to check what Minho wants. 

The text from Minho says, _Come up to my room, I got something to show you._

"Oh, Seungyoon wants to get dinner at that sushi place we saw on the way," Jinwoo says, looking down at his own phone. 

_Dinner?_ Seunghoon writes to Minho.

 _Not hungry, Yoon says he's going with Jinwoo hyung though,_ Minho types back. 

"I'm not really hungry," Seunghoon tells Jinwoo. "You guys go ahead, I think Minho and me will hang back. Maybe get some room service." He looks up when Jinwoo doesn't respond immediately. When he does, Jinwoo is giving him a pointed look. "What?"

Jinwoo hums. "We can swap rooms if you want."

Seunghoon takes a sip of his beer. "Why, did you and Minho have a fight or something?"

Jinwoo ducks his head, laughing. "No, no," he says. He finishes his beer with a smile, shrugging off the line of conversation. "Never mind."

"Okay…" Seunghoon says slowly, eyebrows raised. _Be there soon,_ he types to Minho. He gets a blue heart emoji black. Minho has been very much into blue, lately. Blue, and roses. Seunghoon hadn't asked why, yet. He figured it was the kind of thing you didn't ask about: Minho would explain if he wanted to.

Jinwoo shrugs his shoulders. "You have fun with Minho." He grins, like he and Seunghoon are sharing a private joke. "Don't do anything I wouldn't."

He slides out of his chair to go pay their bill before Seunghoon even has the idea to do it himself. Seunghoon decides he's far too tired to argue, and besides, Jinwoo wouldn't concede anyway. He slides his phone into his pocket and gets up, not wanting to keep Minho waiting.

He bumps into Seungyoon coming out of the elevator. He already has his beanie on, and he's putting on his mask as he steps out. "Hey, hyung," Seungyoon says. There are two cameras hanging from his neck. He manages to look cool with them, instead of like a tourist. "Sushi?" he asks. "It's my treat."

"Nah," Seunghoon shakes his head. "Thanks, but I'm too tired."

"Minho and Jinwoo hyung's room is 1829," Seungyoon says. "We'll probably be back late, I want to see how these," he points to his cameras, "take photos at night. If the flash is any good."

"Okay, have fun," Seunghoon says, pressing the button to call the elevator. 

"If you like, we can swap rooms for the night," Seungyoon offers. Seunghoon looks at him. Seungyoon has his mask on, so he can't see half his face, but nothing about his eyes looks like he's making fun of Seunghoon. "You know, I think Minho hyung has been really looking forward to spending time with you." His eyes crinkle. Underneath the mask, he's smiling.

Seunghoon doesn't know how to take that, or the fact that both Jinwoo and Seungyoon have offered to swap rooms tonight so he and Minho could share. He wants to have this conversation with Seungyoon, at some point, but a hotel corridor is definitely not the appropriate place for it. Instead, he just says, "Okay. Thanks, I'll text you."

He takes the elevator to the eighteenth floor. Jinwoo and Minho's room is tucked away in a corner, at the end of a corridor. Seunghoon knocks, and Minho opens the door almost immediately. He's changed into pyjamas already, and his hair is still damp from the shower. Seunghoon feels overdressed in his hoodie and jeans.

"Hey," Minho says, giving him a bright smile. "I have something for you." He moves to let Seunghoon in, walking barefoot on the carpet. Seunghoon follows, kicking off his trainers at the door. 

The photos are mostly gone from the bed, save for a few that Minho has placed in neat rows on the duvet. He sits next to them, tucking his legs under himself, and waits for Seunghoon to join him. Seunghoon perches on the side of the bed so that the photos are between them. 

"I finished going through all of them," Minho says. "I wanted you to have these." He takes one, grabbing it at the very corner so he doesn't get fingerprint smudges on it, and holds it out to Seunghoon. He has to bend forward to do it. He hasn't done up the buttons on his shirt properly, and Seunghoon can see the tattoos on his chest and the barely-there curve of his stomach. He's lost too much weight. Seunghoon feels a little bad that he didn't try to talk him into going to get sushi, now. 

He takes the picture, holding it with both hands, trying to copy Minho and not get his fingerprints on the glossy side. It's a photo Minho took of him two days ago, by the looks of it. They'd gone wandering around the neighbourhood close to their hotel, trying to find a place that did good taiyaki based off recommendations Seunghoon read online and their manager's half remembered ideas about what the layout of the streets was. 

From the photo it's clear Seunghoon had no idea he was being photographed. He's lying on the side of a fountain they discovered in a little square, where they also eventually found the taiyaki place they'd been looking for. He remembers they'd stopped there because Minho wanted to take photos of the pink tulips that were growing next to the fountain. Seunghoon had lain down for only a couple of minutes because his feet had hurt. The photo shows him on his phone, his eyes closed, his mouth open in laughter. He remembers he'd been watching some kind of clip of someone pressing down a bunch of rubber ducks until they made a weird sighing sound, over and over again, and it had made him laugh so hard he'd almost cried. In one corner, there's a pink blur: the tulips. 

Seunghoon picks up another photo from the bed. This one is of him leaning against a wall painted with some brightly coloured graffiti, the straw from his ice coffee between his lips. He's wearing his sunglasses and his hat pulled down low. It looks posed, but it's not, and Seunghoon can tell because he's slouching, looking like he'd fall over if he were any more relaxed. He's looking at something out of shot, and Seunghoon remembers what it was: Seungyoon almost lying down on the pavement, trying to take a good picture of Jinwoo against a vintage car they'd found.

He picks up another: it's of him pointing at something, caught in semi-profile, his expression focused as he's trying to explain which street they should take. The background is the backs of passers-by, blurred with motion, and colourful shop signs that make a good contrast against his monochrome outfit. Another, it's him at the airport, waiting for the car, his eyes closed and his face upturned to the sky and the sun.

"I figured you could use some of these for SNS if you wanted," Minho says. 

Seunghoon looks up at him. "You took a lot of those," he says.

"Yeah, well. I needed to test the camera out," Minho explains. "And you looked good, hyung. I think you really look like _you_ on them." Seunghoon hums. "You don't have to publish them anywhere," Minho goes on, "but I'd like it if you kept them."

"I didn't take any photos of you," Seunghoon says.

Minho shrugs. "We've got time. Maybe when we go see the cherry blossoms tomorrow, we can take some."

"Can I take one now?" Seunghoon asks. Minho isn't wearing any makeup. There's a dusting of dark under his eyes, like he's not been sleeping well. There's a shadow at his jaw, like he wanted to shave tonight, but was too tired to do it and is putting it off for the morning. His hair is drying in every direction. And he looks handsome, like he's always done to Seunghoon. The light in the room is yellow and soft, only coming from the bedside lamps. Seunghoon can already see the photo in his mind's eye: Minho on the white bed in his dark blue pyjamas, with his soft pink hair and his smile. 

"It's out of film, I'm sorry," Minho says. "I'm going to have to go and buy more tomorrow, I forgot to do it today."

"That's fine, I have an app on my phone that takes nice analog looking photos," Seunghoon says.

Minho laughs. "Why do you want to take a picture of me?" Seunghoon scoops up the photographs Minho had given him and puts them on the nightstand. He has to lean past Minho to do it, and when he does, he smells hotel shower gel and Minho's moisturiser. Minho shifts so that they don't bump against each other, but not too far away. "We're not doing anything special."

Seunghoon sits back, letting his fingers brush Minho's knee as he retreats. "Aren't we?" he asks. He puts his hands out on the bed between them, and Minho takes them, tangling their fingers together. "We could be."

Minho ducks his head, smiling. "You know, Jinwoo hyung asked me if I wanted him to stay with Yoon tonight instead." Seunghoon moves closer on the bed, sighing. So it's not just his imagination. 

" _Both_ of them asked me that," Seunghoon says, and Minho laughs. He pulls at Seunghoon's hands, gently, until Seunghoon gets the hint and wraps his arms around Minho's waist. He has to get on the bed fully to do it, and it's a little bit awkward in jeans. The mattress dips, the springs make a small sound of protest.

Their faces are very close, Minho's eyes are wide as they dance across Seunghoon's features, like he's not seen him in months, even though they spend almost every day together. "Am I that obvious?" Minho asks. He tugs at the strings of Seunghoon's hoodie. 

Seunghoon wants to laugh, but it's not polite. He shakes his head and smiles. "You're really obvious," he says, and at Minho's inhale of protest, he hurries to follow it up with, "but I think we'll be okay."

"Really?"

Seunghoon kisses Minho's cheek. He kisses the hinge of his jaw as Minho hums and turns his head, trying to make their lips meet. "Seunghoon, come on," Minho says. He catches him for a peck on the lips, and as Seunghoon smiles against it, Minho tugs on his hoodie strings, forcefully enough that they bounce up and hit Seunghoon on the nose when Minho lets go. "You're dodging the question."

It's not the first time they've had this conversation. Seunghoon sincerely thinks it won't be the last time, either, but he's ready to have it every time it comes up. It took Minho a while to put the shards of his heart back together after Taehyun had left. Sometimes, Seunghoon feels like if he holds on too tight, Minho's heart will shatter again, but if he holds on too gently, it'll slip through his fingers. It's a tightrope, but his balance has been good so far.

"We're all Winner together," Seunghoon says. He runs his fingers through Minho's still damp hair, twisting a strand around a finger. Minho moves his head into the touch. "Seungyoon and Jinwoo hyung and you and me. The four of us. Not the two of them, and the two of us." He cups Minho's cheek. "Okay?"

"Yeah, I get you," Minho says. "They wouldn't tell anyone, you're right." They hadn't told anyone about Taehyun and Minho, either, which had turned out more of a disaster than any of them had anticipated, or wanted to accept for the longest time. Seunghoon isn't Taehyun, though, and Minho is different now than he was back then. 

Seunghoon leans in again, touching his lips to Minho's. As Minho opens his mouth for the kiss, Seunghoon moves lower, kissing his neck and down to his chest. He starts unbuttoning Minho's pyjama top, taking his time, kissing along his collarbones and across his tattoos. Above him, Minho leans his head back and sighs. 

"Jiho hyung…" Minho breathes, and Seunghoon digs his fingers into Minho's thigh hard enough that Minho groans in protest.

"Minho, please," Seunghoon says. He sits up and kisses Minho, catching his bottom lip with his teeth, tugging on it. "Please," he says, slipping Minho's pyjama top off one of his shoulders and leaving a trail of kisses along the exposed skin. Minho's hand goes to the nape of his neck, encouraging him.

"He thinks we're dating," Minho says. He sucks breath in through his teeth as Seunghoon bites his shoulder. "Be careful. Marks."

"I think," Seunghoon says sharply, getting the last couple of buttons on Minho's top undone, "that you mention Woo Jiho too often in these situations." He puts a hand on Minho's stomach, which is rising and falling with his breathing, and then drags it downward until he's cupping him through his bottoms. Minho's legs are spread, and he arches into his touch. "Do you think he'd want to know that?" Seunghoon punctuates his question with a squeeze of his hand that makes Minho gasp.

"Fuck, you're awful," Minho says, but Seunghoon starts moving his hand, and Minho can't close his mouth. Seunghoon catches it with his, and they're kissing properly, finally, Minho's tongue against his, his breath in Seunghoon's mouth, his cock growing hard under Seunghoon's hand.

Seunghoon breaks the kiss so he can pull his hoodie off, catching his t-shirt with it and taking both off in one movement that probably leaves his hair sticking up every which way. Minho laughs and musses it further until Seunghoon squawks and slaps his hand away. Minho grabs his wrists, trying to stop Seunghoon from hitting him. They tussle, and it ends with Minho on his back, his pyjama top open, and Seunghoon above him, pinning him down in just his jeans and socks.

Minho is looking up at him, grinning. "Okay," he says, "I get it. Don't mention Jiho hyung."

"I know how difficult it is for you to keep his name from your lips for even a minute," Seunghoon says. "And I can't get you off in a minute. I'm not that good." He grins down at Minho, who laughs. "Maybe he is, but I'm not."

Minho groans, trying to hide his face, but he can't because Seunghoon has both his arms pinned. "That was once!"

"That I know of," Seunghoon says, and he shifts in Minho's lap until he can feel the outline of Minho's cock against his own. He starts moving his hips, in slow and small movements, rubbing down against Minho. 

"Seunghoon," Minho groans, and it's meant to sound annoyed, but god if it doesn't go straight to Seunghoon's cock. He leans down until his necklace hits Minho's chest, their noses almost touching. He doesn't stop moving his hips. "Don't be jealous."

Seunghoon kisses the side of Minho's neck. "I'm not jealous," he says. He lets go of one of Minho's wrists to run his hand down Minho's chest, and Minho's hand immediately goes to his ass, getting a good handful. "Jiho isn't the one who gets to do this," he says, and pinches a nipple, catching Minho's yelp with his mouth, shaping it into a moan with his tongue.

"Take your jeans off," Minho breathes once Seunghoon gives him room to. "I'm so hard, _please_ take your jeans off."

Seunghoon flops down on the bed next to him, unzipping himself. He bites down on his lower lip as he carefully, so carefully slides his jeans past his erection, and breathes more easily as he peels them off his legs. He kicks them off the bed, toeing off his socks and flicking them off to land somewhere on the floor as well. Minho is lying on his side, shirtless now, watching him. "Classy," he says.

Seunghoon pointedly looks down at Minho's cock tenting his pyjama bottoms, and then up at Minho's face. Minho raises his eyebrows. "What."

"I barely did anything," Seunghoon says, reaching over to grab at the waistband of Minho's pyjama bottoms and tug down. He helps Minho wiggle out of them, and they disappear somewhere on the floor. "And look at you." There's a small wet patch on Minho's underwear, where the head of his cock rubs against it. Seunghoon traces it with his thumb, seeking out the slit and rubbing against it. Minho inhales. Seunghoon withdraws his hand, licking his thumb until he can't taste Minho's precome on it anymore. 

"Fuck," Minho exhales. "You know you drive me crazy, right?" Seunghoon chuckles. 

Minho puts a hand on his knee, and runs it up his thigh and under the leg of his boxers. His thumb traces the line of his crotch, so close to Seunghoon's balls he can feel his cock twitch.

"I had jetlag when I came back from Mexico, I couldn't sleep," Seunghoon says as Minho takes his hand out, only to reach for the waistband of his boxes and start pulling them down. "I saw the video you sent me on Insta." His cock bobs as Minho pulls his boxers off, and Minho takes it in his hand immediately. He starts stroking it, slowly, listening to Seunghoon talk. "I jerked off to it," Seunghoon admits.

Minho pushes his hand into his own boxers, closing it around his cock. "Yeah? What did you think about?"

"You," Seunghoon says. "Something like this." Minho focuses his fingers on the crown of his cock, and Seunghoon has to just breathe for a couple of seconds. "The way your voice gets rough sometimes. I imagined that it'd sound like that after you'd sucked my cock and I came down your throat."

Minho squeezes his eyes shut, tugging on his own cock faster. His rhythm on Seunghoon's cock is erratic and sloppy, but he remembers to still his hand so Seunghoon can thrust into it. It's bordering on painful, without any lube like this, but the precome is helping, and Minho's hands are soft. 

"I've never done that before," Minho says, and yeah, Seunghoon had kind of assumed that. They'd never done anything more than this, grinding against each other until they came, sometimes jerking each other off and just, talking. Minho liked talking. Seunghoon doesn't know what Minho had done with Taehyun — he didn't like asking, and Minho clearly didn't want to talk about it. He knew Minho and Jiho had fooled around, because Minho had admitted to it once, but Seunghoon didn't probe. It didn't matter, and it didn't concern him. Minho was with him now, in… in whatever this was, and Seunghoon was happy enough.

"It's good," Seunghoon tells him. "It feels good."

"Have you sucked dick before?" Minho asks him.

Seunghoon nods. "I'd like to suck yours," he tells Minho. "I know how to make it feel good." Minho groans, hips thrusting into his own hand, and Seunghoon has to move closer and kiss him. He doesn't know how thin the walls in this hotel are, but even if the room was completely soundproof, he has to kiss Minho in that moment, has to feel the slide of his tongue against his own, and the way Minho tilts his head to deepen the kiss. 

He touches his fingers to Minho's mouth. "Get them wet," he says, and Minho licks at his fingertips, licks a stripe up his palm until it's wet enough that Seunghoon can wrap it around Minho's cock. Minho moves his hand, but before he can do anything with it, Seunghoon catches his wrist and starts licking the precome from Minho's fingers, getting his hand wet with his spit.

"Seunghoon," Minho groans. "Fuck, Seunghoon." His cock is hot in Seunghoon's palm, and when Seunghoon squeezes it gently, he can feel precome ooze from the tip. 

"Would you let me suck your cock? I'd let you do anything to my mouth," Seunghoon says against Minho's fingers. "I'd let you fuck my mouth if you wanted." He kisses the heel of Minho's palm. "You can come on my face if you like."

"Fuck, I—" Minho says, and then Seunghoon feels his cock twitch, and he's coming in his boxers. It spurts against Seunghoon's wrist before he manages to catch some of it in his hand. 

"Fuck, I'm so sorry," Minho says, and his cheeks are burning. Seunghoon takes his hand out of Minho's underwear, licking the come off it, getting every drop. It's still hot on his tongue. He's still hard.

"It's okay," he tells Minho. "Just…" He laughs, breathless. "Next time, I'll talk less."

"No," Minho says, and goes to kiss him. Seunghoon thinks he'll pull away once he tastes the traces of his own come on Seunghoon's tongue, but if there's a moment of hesitation, Minho pushes through it and keeps kissing him until they're both out of breath. "I love hearing you," Minho says. "I love your voice." He kisses the corner of Seunghoon's mouth. "I love how it gets loose when we're doing this." His hand is back on Seunghoon's cock, wet with spit. He thumbs the head, and Seunghoon has to close his eyes because damn, Minho is good at this. He knows how to touch him.

"I really like your cock," Minho says, breathing it against Seunghoon's neck. "When I jerk myself off, I pretend it's your cock. It's your hand. I— sometimes I suck on my fingers and pretend it's— it's your mouth. Your fingers." Seunghoon's panting now, shaking in little tremors because Minho is going so slow, and he's so overstimulated. "I love the noises you make when you're like this," Minho tells him. He kisses his open mouth, and Seunghoon chases the kiss even as Minho moves away to keep talking. "I want to… I wish I could record you like this, your face and your voice."

"No," Seunghoon says. "you don't have to, I'll let you do this whenever you want."

"Whenever?" Minho asks, rhythm still steady on Seunghoon's cock. "On the tour?"

"Yes— Minho, I'd let you fuck me however you wanted," Seunghoon pants, "I'd only come for you."

"You'd let me fuck you?" Minho asks. Hearing those words out of his mouth sends a shiver through Seunghoon.

"Yes," Seunghoon breathes out, and he can feel how close he is. He imagines it, Minho's cock filling him up, and he wants it, he wants to feel him everywhere. "Fuck, I'm close, keep— keep talking."

"I'd fuck you right now if I could," Minho says, not hesitating in the slightest. "You're so beautiful, Seunghoon." He squeezes the head of Seunghoon's cock on the upstroke, and Seunghoon has to bite his lip so he doesn't cry out. "I want to know what my cock feels like inside you." He doesn't stumble on his words, and Seunghoon leans in, kissing him as much as he can when he's breathing like this and Minho is trying to speak. His strokes on Seunghoon's cock are getting faster, but they're still not as fast as Seunghoon needs them to be. He starts moving his hips, trying to give him a hint. "You're gorgeous like this," Minho tells him, still stroking slow, either not getting it or choosing to ignore it.

"Please—" Seunghoon pants.

"Please?" Minho echoes, so close to his ear.

"Hurry up, I want to come," Seunghoon says, almost whines, and he'd be embarrassed, but there's no room in his brain for anything except the feeling of Minho's hand wrapped around his cock, Minho's lips, on his neck now, the things he's saying.

Minho does speed up his strokes at that, and it's just enough. Seunghoon cups his face, trying to catch his lips for another kiss. Minho meets him halfway, capturing Seunghoon's shaky breaths with his mouth. Seunghoon would stay like this forever if he could, on the precipice of orgasm, Minho's lips against his, Minho's tongue in his mouth, his hand slipping on Seunghoon's cock. 

"Seunghoon," Minho says, and his voice is deep and rough, and Seunghoon loves the way it makes his name sound. "You know I can't— I can't think of anyone else, right? You ruined me." He laughs, a little, trying to stifle it by pressing a kiss against Seunghoon's collarbone. "I want to be the only one to make you feel like this."

"You are, you are, Minho, I'm—" Seunghoon tries to assure him, and he's coming, arching forward and shuddering as Minho kisses him through it, swallowing the little noises Seunghoon makes. Minho catches most of the come in his hands, face split in a wide grin even as Seunghoon is getting his breath back.

It's always like this, but each time is better than the last, and it's only in moments like these that Seunghoon will allow himself the question if this is what the start of love feels like. He'd loved Minho all this time, but in moments like these, he thinks he can feel that love changing into a different shape, in his chest and in the space between them.

"Hey," Minho says, trying to catch Seunghoon's eye. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Seunghoon says, laughing. He feels like he needs a shower, but he also doesn't want to move from Minho's bed, probably until the morning. 

"I'm just going to wash this off," Minho says, and he's hopping to the bathroom, hands cupped and probably still full of Seunghoon's come. Seunghoon buries his head in a pillow and tries not to laugh too loud.

"You didn't think to get tissues?" he calls after Minho.

Over the sound of running water, Minho yells, "It was Jinwoo hyung's job!"

Seunghoon rolls onto his back, letting the sweat cool on his skin. He'll find his boxers later. Or if he's lucky, Minho will find them first and toss them to him, so that way he won't have to move at all.

A disgusted noise from Minho floats over from the bathroom. "God, well, I'm just going to change my underwear too, huh," Seunghoon hears him say. Minho is trying to sound pissed off, but Seunghoon knows him too well to buy that. More than anything, he sounds amused. 

"Underwear is overrated. Just sleep naked," he calls out to Minho.

"Hotel sheets, no thanks," says Minho, and he's back in a fresh pair of underwear. He flicks water from his hands at Seunghoon, who lies there completely unfazed. The cold droplets feel good against his skin. And just like Seunghoon thought he would, Minho bends down to pick up his underwear from the floor and throws it at him. It lands square on Seunghoon's chest.

"Thanks," Seunghoon says, sliding it back on without ever lifting his upper body from the bed, allowing himself to be lazy. "I'll shower in the morning."

Minho pulls his pyjama bottoms on, grabs his phone, and then throws himself down on the bed next to Seunghoon, putting all of his weight behind it. The springs creak in distress. By instinct borne of years, Seunghoon lifts an arm so Minho can scoot closer to him. Minho does, curling up against his side as Seunghoon slings his arm around his shoulders. 

Minho taps through his phone. "I'm telling Jinwoo hyung to swap rooms with you for tonight." He's typing out the message as he says it.

"I'd say no, but I'm already in bed," Seunghoon says, yawning.

Minho snorts. "Lazy," he says, not looking up from his phone. "You're the laziest hyung I know."

"Really?" Seunghoon raises his eyebrows. "Did Woo Jiho die? I'm so sorry."

Minho laughs, poking Seunghoon in the side so viciously that Seunghoon jumps. He tries to shove Minho's hand away, but Minho keeps poking until Seunghoon is almost falling off the other side of the bed, curled in on himself and laughing so much he's out of breath.

"Okay, okay, truce!" Seunghoon yells, and Minho stops, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He gives Seunghoon's stomach one last, soft poke, and then shifts to give him room to get back in the middle of the bed. Seunghoon lies against his side, throwing an arm across Minho. Minho tangles their fingers together on his chest, and squeezes Seunghoon's hand. Seunghoon squeezes back. Minho clicks the lights off, and they lie there in silence for a few minutes. Seunghoon closes his eyes, listening to Minho's heartbeat.

"Hey, Seunghoon hyung…" Minho begins, carefully. He barely calls him hyung when they're alone anymore, so this makes Seunghoon pay attention immediately. "Some of the stuff I said…"

"Don't worry about it," Seunghoon says, squeezing his fingers. They're still holding hands. "People say stupid shit when they're trying to get off."

Minho palpably relaxes. "Okay. I don't want things to get weird," he says. 

"Minho," Seunghoon says, pointedly dropping the suffix, "I'm totally okay with getting weird with you. We can talk about if that means coming on my face, or fucking me, or if we just leave it at this."

Minho laughs, surprised. "They teach you to talk like that in Busan, huh?" Seunghoon lifts their hands, hitting Minho in the chest with them. "Okay, okay, point made," Minho concedes. He pauses for a long second, enough that Seunghoon thinks the conversation is done. "Thanks," he says then.

Seunghoon kisses his shoulder. "Let's go see the cherry blossoms tomorrow. So that I can take a good photo of you."

Minho brings their connected hands to his lips, and kisses the back of Seunghoon's hand. "Okay," he says. "I'd really like that."

"And let's get a big breakfast," Seunghoon says. "Promise me?"

Minho's phone buzzes. He lets go of Seunghoon's hand to grab it from the nightstand. The light throws his too thin face in sharp contrast, and Seunghoon has to move up to kiss his cheek, because Minho always looks beautiful. Minho groans at that, perfunctorily, but he's smiling. 

"Jinwoo hyung says goodnight," he says, showing Seunghoon Jinwoo's message.

"Good night, Jinwoo hyung," Seunghoon says, and Minho types it in cute-speak in the chat. "I didn't say it like that!" Seunghoon protests.

"Too late now," Minho says, sending a sticker of a sleepy kitten to Jinwoo, adding insult to injury.

"Do you want to die?" Seunghoon growls, flicking Minho in the chest.

"Right now? I wouldn't mind," Minho says, locking his phone and putting it back on the nightstand. He takes Seunghoon's hand again. "I'd die happy."

Seunghoon sighs, making himself comfortable against Minho. "Well, I'm going to hold off on killing you until after breakfast," Seunghoon says. "I want natto and grilled fish. From that place we saw yesterday."

"That sounds amazing," Minho says, soft and quiet. Seunghoon smiles, hearing his breathing starting to even out as the first tendrils of sleep take hold. 

He dreams of floating like a cherry blossom on the wind, high above Nagoya, above Japan and all the way back home to Seoul, through an open window and into a room where blue roses sit in a thin vase and a ginger cat washes herself on a pair of blue jeans lying on an unmade bed. He dreams of holding photographs in his hands and them turning into cherry blossoms, pink like Minho's hair, and blowing away to the rhythm of a heartbeat.


End file.
